


Sapphires

by Himring



Series: Gloom, Doom and Maedhros [73]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himring/pseuds/Himring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Tirion, Maedhros has just emerged from his first public audience with his uncle, King Finarfin, after his re-embodiment. His former fosterling Elrond is at his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sapphires

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ysilme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ysilme/gifts).



> Ficlet written for Fandom Stocking 2014 for Winterwitch, who asked for Elrond and Maedhros (among others).  
> This piece is related very closely to my story "Something Un-Feanorian", which has a great deal more background on the shared history and emotional ties between Elrond and Maedhros, but I think it can probably be read as a stand-alone, too.

‘So that’s over and done with,’ said Maedhros, with a sigh, when they had reached the relative safety of the antechamber.

He brought up his hands and began extricating the string of silver and sapphires from his hair, pulling it free with evident relief. Registering Elrond’s questioning glance, he explained: ‘They’re Findekano’s, of course.’

He held the string out to Elrond by way of demonstration. The piece of jewellery sparkled in the light of the chandelier— silver and blue, Fingon’s colours.

‘I thought myself that sackcloth and ashes would have been more appropriate for my first appearance in public,’ said Maedhros. He smiled tentatively at Elrond, but then he wiped the expression off his face, as if he had decided it was inappropriate. ‘But Findekano argued against it—and I finally had to agree—it would not do to present too much temptation for those justly aggrieved to vent their grievances—I would not want to get anyone in trouble with the higher authorities by making myself too easy a target…’

His gaze drifted away, taking in Finarfin’s tasteful furnishings without apparent interest.

‘Elrond,’ he said. ‘Do you think, after everything that has happened, all I have done…?’ His fingers tightened around the string of sapphires. ‘Fingon…’ he said, almost pleadingly.

‘Maedhros, son of Feanor,’ asked Elrond, after a puzzled moment, ‘can it be that you are asking my permission to be happy?’

He had been more than half joking, but Maedhros seemed to take his question seriously, literally, even, and paused to consider it.

‘That would be entirely too...sneaky of me, wouldn’t it?’ he asked.

He was more accepting of Elrond's affection than he had been and had not questioned his offer of support in this difficult and potentially even dangerous situation. Nevertheless, he was clearly still inclined to regard it as irrational prejudice—or a healer's whim.

‘No,’ said Elrond hastily. ‘In fact, don’t ask anyone but me!’

The thought that Maedhros might take his cue instead from some of the more ignorant and malicious gossip Elrond had overheard—or the stony silence of others, however well founded—was unbearable.

Maedhros gave him a sceptical look.

‘Listen,’ said Elrond, ‘you never killed anyone when you were happy, did you? And you were never happy when killing anyone. It follows that being happy makes you a lot less dangerous to anybody…’

‘A very appealing bit of sophistry, Elrond,’ said Maedhros.

There was some mild reproof in the stress on the word "sophistry", Elrond felt, yet it was outweighed by gratitude.

They both fell silent when they heard the sound of approaching footsteps behind them, but it was Fingon who entered the antechamber. Almost at once, he seemed to spot the string of sapphires dangling from Maedhros’s hand and raised both eyebrows. Maedhros smiled lopsidedly in return.

It had taken Elrond some time to get used to the idea that Fingon loved Maedhros. And then it had taken him even more time to get used to the idea that Maedhros loved Fingon. For a while, it had disturbed him how Fingon kept fussing over the recently returned son of Feanor—bossing him around, almost. Maedhros, who had been such an authoritative figure during Elrond’s childhood, seemingly put up with it. Then Elrond had noticed, once, Maedhros silencing Fingon just by laying a pair of fingers lightly across his wrist. And Fingon, who had been in mid flow, had stopped immediately at that gentle touch, the expression on his face hopeful and attentive...

Now, as he saw how quickly—almost prematurely—Maedhros had removed the disputed ornament, Fingon shook his head, with an answering smile, and did not comment.‘That went as well as could be expected, I think,’ he remarked, instead. ‘And I gather our uncle thinks so, too.’

‘But not to be repeated too soon or too often?’ said Maedhros.

‘Not too soon, at any rate,’ said Fingon. ‘Speaking of which—let us go!’ He plucked the jewels from Maedhros's palm.

Elrond accompanied them out through the great double doors. At the top of the front steps of the palace he took his leave of them and watched them walking away down the street together. Fingon walked with a spring and a swing, ready to advance or defend, each step firmly planted on the pavement. At his side, Maedhros seemed to hover, almost, as if conscious that the ground beneath his feet might drop away at any moment, but nevertheless perfectly controlled. And yet they moved in harmony, those two.

Not exactly happy, no, thought Elrond, despite the conversation they had just had—but near enough for now.


End file.
